Saving Nate
by Nikolaos
Summary: Six years after Michael is allowed to leave Miami he is called back for one last job. The client: Nate. Willing or not. How do you rescue someone who doesn't want your help?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I was watching Gone in 60 Seconds, and this just popped into my head. Instead of watching Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie I was suddenly seeing the cast of Burn Notice. After that the plot bunny with its claws of doom took over and this is what we have. Enjoy.

-BN—

Two shots sounded across the parking garage. Echoing.

"Stay down." Growled the man pointing the gun. He pinned another man to the ground, as he scanned the rest of the parking lot. A door behind them opened, footsteps coming closer. The man turned round, gun already aimed and ready.

"Michael." Called the new arrival.

The man with the gun stared at the new arrival before he finally lowered his gun. Letting the man on the floor get back up to his feet. The man looked around the parking lot, his eyes lingering on the now dead hit man.

"Thank you, Michael."

-BN-


	2. Chapter 2

-BN-

The rain was pouring again. This was LA not the jungle, yet all week the storms kept coming. Michael didn't care, the more it rained the less people around. It suited him perfectly.

He ran across the beach, the sound of the waves crashing on the sand making a perfect backdrop for him to run without thinking. He'd gone ten miles this morning, ten miles on just a yoghurt. It wasn't a good move, he could feel the bile rising up his throat as he pushed himself further.

Dropping to his knees, he threw up. The pounding in his head sounding to a crescendo. He'd really done it this time. Gone too far. But he didn't know if he cared anymore.

"You need to take better care of yourself Michael." Said a voice behind him.

Michael was up on his feet and facing the unknown voice, ignoring the fact that his vision greyed in places.

"Careful, Michael." A hand gripped his arm, guess he didn't hide it too well. "Sit down." Michael didn't have a choice; he was sitting on the sand his head between his knees. He figured if this guy wanted him dead, he'd be dead already.

Michael looked up at the man standing in front of him. He couldn't have been more surprised if an elephant had come by. But it was close. He hadn't seen the man standing in front of him in more than six years. How the hell did he find him? Here of all places? Nobody knew he was here.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked.

"What, no small talk?" Bly grinned. He looked completely relaxed. That irked him more than anything else. So he continued to glare at Bly. "Fine, I came looking for you because someone you know needs help."

"I'm a little busy, right now." Michael smirked.

"Hmmm, I can see that." Bly grinned, "Is there somewhere we can talk? About your brother, and the deep shit he's in."

Michael stared at Bly, "If you've hurt him, I'll..."

"I haven't hurt him." Interrupted Bly as he sat in the sand next to Michael, it was clear they weren't going anywhere. "But the man I'm working for will do just that if he doesn't get what he wants."

"The man you're working for?"

"Yeah, I got hired by this Raymond Calitri. He hired me to find you."

"Why?"

"He hired your brother for a job. Nate didn't come through. Calitri wants the job done. He figures you're the one to finish it"

Michael stared at Bly, "What kind of job? Actually why are you for hire? And come to think of it how the hell did you find me?" his voice rising with each question.

"Transporting weapons. A lot has changed in the last six years. You would know that if you bothered to call home."

Michael huffed in response. Yeah, a lot had changed. He was no longer black listed, but could never have his job back. He was no longer confined to one city, and he was playing bodyguard for rich who were under death threats, and he was alone. It was what he wanted, wasn't it? No one depending on him. No one trying to get him to do thing. He made his own choices. Was it worth it? Six years ago, he thought so.

"This Calitri is a nasty piece of work. He even scares the shit out of me." Michael looked at Bly in surprise. "He will kill Nate. And if you don't come back, he will kill your mother. Then he'll kill Fiona and Sam. He'll kill everyone you ever had contact with no matter how brief a time. He'll find all those people you helped when you were burned and he'll kill them. He'll keep on killing until he gets what he wants."

"Can't you just kill him?"

Bly looked up at Michael like he was seeing a different person. Six years ago, Michael would never have just offered to shoot someone. Trap them in their own game, yes. Hand them over to the cops. Hell, get the bad guys to kill each other. But to just go ahead and kill them. That wasn't like him.

"No, I can't. It goes against my orders."

"Your orders?"

"I'm to gather intel. Calitri is only a small fish in a bigger pond. We're after the bigger fish."

"And you just happen to come across Nate? I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I. But then your brother has been taking any job he could get. It's not a coincidence our paths crossed, just a matter of time."

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed up in frustration. He'd left so they would be safe. Bly took this opportunity to get back to his feet. He knew it had been a hard choice for Michael to leave. He'd spent so long trying to get back in to covert ops. But it had never happened. He was given the all clear but he had to choose. Did he stay, or did he go?

"Take me to see this Calitri." Mumbled Michael. His mind was made up, Nate probably didn't want his help. Nate would probably try to kill him when he saw him, and he wouldn't expect anything less. But he was family. For the first time in his life he actually missed what he left behind.

-BN-


	3. Chapter 3

AN: thank you for all the reviews. It felt like Christmas had come early. I was scaring my colleagues my mood was so good. Let's do that again. Enjoy!

-BN-

Michael looked up at one of the few remaining steel works in Miami. His instincts taking over, he could work out who was muscle and in on Calitri's organisation and who was just a worker. Of course even those workers would know that steel work wasn't the only business that was conducted here.

He followed Bly through the plant and into a large office. The pipes and metal work of the place still in plain sight even in here. No shred of comfort was visible. It said a lot about this man, Calitri. And none of it was good.

"So this must be the famous Michael Westen." Grinned the man behind a large wooden desk. The wood looked quite out of place surrounded by all the metal. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe everything you've heard." Said Michael looking around the room. Taking in the position of Calitri's bodyguard. The bulge at the man's hip, ruining the line of his jacket. It probably wasn't the only weapon he was carrying. He took in Bly's position, he'd stayed by the door, not invited into the conversation. Could he trust Bly to be on his side? "Where's my brother?"

"Ah yes, Nate Westen. Heard a lot about him too. You got a job that needs doing, he's your man. Never fails to deliver. Guess what? HE FAILED!" Calitri was up on his feet and walking round the desk towards Michael. He was slightly taller than Michael, but not as broad. This man did not fight his own battles. But that's not to say he wouldn't just shoot you.

"I don't like failure. I've now got a buyer for 50 crates of weapons and I've got NO WEAPONS!"

"How much did you pay Nate?"

"I don't want your money. I want those guns." Calitri walked to the door, "I got something to show you." He walked out the office without looking back. Michael looked at Bly who only shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what was going on either. With no other choice, Michael followed after Calitri. He really hoped they were going to see Nate now.

"It takes 80 thousand pounds of pressure to crush a car. How much do you think it takes to crush a body?" asked Calitri he held his hand up and the lights for the yard blazed on. Michael blinked away the spots that the lights had caused and looked towards the car crusher that was in front of them. A man was cuffed to the steering wheel of the car, blood running down his face from a cut on his forehead. It was Nate.

That calm resolve Michael had been using to get him through this without just shooting Calitri evaporated when he saw his brother. Guys had taken his guns from him when he'd arrived, but he reached forward punching the nearest guy in the head grabbing the man's sidearm he had the safety off and pointing at Calitri's head in mere seconds.

"Get him out!" he ordered. Two other men were now pointing guns at his own head. He didn't care. "Get him out!"

"The way I see it, you've got three choices. One, you shoot me, they shoot you, you die and your brother dies. Two, you lie. You take the job and you run, I find you; I kill you, your brother and your mother just for the aggravation that you've caused. Three, you take the job, you steal some weapons, you make some money. You be a big brother." Calitri stared straight at Michael his gaze unwavering. He was confident that Michael would back down. He was right.

Michael dropped the gun. He looked back at Nate, his eyes were still closed. "Three days, pier fourteen. Eight o'clock. Don't be late or your brother goes back in the crusher." Calitri clapped Michael on the shoulder before walking back inside, his bodyguards going with him.

Michael dropped the gun and ran to his brother, climbing up on the crusher he flung open the car door to get a closer look at his brother. "Nate? Nate!"

"Michael?" said Nate as he opened his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you." He pulled out a hair clip from his back pocket and started to pick the lock on the cuffs.

"I don't need your help." Spat Nate, the venom laden in his voice. Michael expected it, but it still hurt.

"You can tell me how much you hate me when we're away from Calitri's place." He pulled Nate out of the car, handing him to Bly before jumping down to the ground. Together the two of them supported Nate to Bly's car. Clearly Nate had more injuries than Michael could see.

"Where too?" asked Bly. Once they had Nate lying in the back seat.

Michael sighed, there was only one place they could go. "My mothers."

-BN-

Bly pulled into the driveway of Madeline Westen's house. "You alright Michael?"

"Fine." He lied as he got out of the car. He was anything but fine. He'd gone an entire decade without coming home before and it didn't feel this bad. Deep down he knew then that he still had something to come back to if he wanted to. But this time, six years and he didn't think he'd be welcomed back with open arms.

Brushing off that feeling he started to help Nate out of the car. Ignoring the protests he was making. Draping Nate's arm over his shoulder he started walking into the house, Bly grabbed Nate's other arm. Together they made short work of the journey. Taking a deep breath Michael pushed open the front door and walked in.

"Ma?" he called. Heading towards the couch he placed Nate down.

"Michael?"

Michael turned round to see his Mom standing in the kitchen having come in from the garage. A basket of clean laundry in her arms. Her bleached blonde hair the same as it was when he left, the usual cloud of smoke surrounding her. She was a medical miracle really. From across the room he could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh Michael." She dropped the laundry and rushed forward. Gripping him in a tight embrace. He guessed he was missed then. That well of guilt got slightly shallower. He could feel Madeline's tears soaking into his shirt. Once again he was powerless to do anything about it.

"Michael?" whispered Bly. They needed to patch up Nate before his blood started seeping onto the couch. He did not want to be around if that happened and Madeline saw it.

"Oh my god. What happened?" she screeched as she pushed past Michael and towards Nate.

"I'm fine, Ma." Mumbled Nate.

"Don't lie to me. Now tell me what happened?" she demanded. She looked between the three men. None of them were looking at her. "Fine. There's a first aid kit in the cupboard. Don't get blood on the upholstery." She grabbed her cigarettes off the table and stormed out. The door slamming behind her.

Michael sighed in response to his mother's outburst. Yeah, something's don't change. Grabbing the kit he set it down beside Nate. It wasn't as nicely stocked as the one Sam used to own. But disinfectant, bandages and a couple of steri-strips were all Nate needed. The thing about head injuries is that they bleed, a lot. He probably had a couple broken ribs, judging by the nice spread of bruises that were forming. But he was lucky. Could have been a lot worse.

"Why'd you come back?" mumbled Nate.

"I'll call you later." Said Bly, patting Michael on the shoulder. He did not want to be around for this conversation. Michael just nodded as he packed the kit away. He was staling.

"I was doing fine on my own."

"I can see that."

"Don't give me that shit." Spat Nate. "You left. Again. Mom was a wreck. I did what I could."

"I know." Mumbled Michael. That well of guilt was filling up again. The brothers sat in silence, both thinking about their past, their present. Where to go from here.

"I'll go see Calitri tomorrow. Get this all sorted out. See about an extension." Mumbled Nate, he was almost asleep. Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"This isn't just a business deal Nate. You can't just get an extension."

He didn't get a reply, Nate was asleep. Getting up he walked out the backdoor and sat on the steps. His head in his hands.

"Nate's in trouble, isn't he?" asked Madeline coming out of the garage. Cigarette in hand.

"Yeah."

"Can you help him?"

"It means doing things. Things I told you I'd never do again."

"Do what it takes."

-BN—


	4. Chapter 4

AN: This chapter took longer than I thought to get out. I knew exactly where I wanted to go, but getting there proved more difficult than originally planned. Little Miss Plot Bunny kept giving me bad directions. But here it is. Enjoy!

-BN-

Michael knew what he had to do, he'd been thinking about it for the past three hours. There was no possible way he would be able to complete this job on his own. He had sixty-seven hours remaining until the deadline, it just wasn't enough time to scout potential sources by himself. Six years ago he would have known which arms dealers in Miami could get hold of which weapons. Six years ago he would have known where each arms dealer had their storage and could have just stolen them. But now? Now he didn't even know which dealers were still around.

Which is why he was now standing across the street from Carlito's. The place hadn't changed in the time that he'd not been around. Including the man he was looking for. Sam Axe. He had no idea how Sam would react. It could go either way, a friendly smile and offered a beer, or a punch to the jaw. The only way he was going to find out was if he went over there.

Crossing the street, he dodged a police cruiser and walked towards his old friend. A smile graced his lips as he watched Sam ogle at a young woman in her beach wear. "She's too young. Wouldn't be able to afford your up keep." Said Michael as a way of getting Sam's attention.

Sam's head snapped round so he was looking at Michael, a total look of shock on his face. Seconds dragged by as Sam just stared at Michael, all the while Michael became all the more uncomfortable. This was not going either way that he pictured it.

Suddenly Sam let out a bellow of a laugh, standing up he pulled Michael into a bear hug. "Damn." He said as he let Michael go, looking him up and down. Smiling he indicated the chair opposite him and they both sat down.

"Mira, dos cervezas, por favour" Sam called to the waitress. Beer it was then. Sam's smile faded slightly "Been a long time, Mike."

"Yeah." Michael agreed. What else could he say? There was no point denying it. As a spy he got used to dropping everything and moving on to the next location. Enjoyed it even. Then he got burned. He made friends, a family. Moving on wasn't easy, but he did it. No changing that.

"You back for good?" asked Sam as he sipped his drink. All the while not taking his eyes off Michael. Taking in everything about him. There was something different about the Michael that sat in front of him compared to the one six years ago. But he couldn't tell you what. There was nothing definitive. But there was something.

"I'm here for Nate. He took a job, now he's in trouble." Sam frowned at him, obviously that wasn't the answer he wanted, or even hoped for.

"What kind of job?" Sam asked. If Michael could ignore the issue, then so could he.

"What do you know about a Raymond Calitri?" Michael watched as the colour in Sam's face seemed to drain.

"Shit Mikey. I've heard bad things about him. What was Nate thinking?"

That was two of the toughest people Michael knew now that paled at the thought of Calitri. He didn't understand it. Yeah, the guy was a bit crazy but he hadn't seen anything from him to invoke this amount of fear. Brushing that aside he pulled out the list of weapons and handed it Sam.

"What's this?" asked Sam taking the paper.

"That's the weapons Calitri wants by Friday or he kills Nate."

"Shit Mikey." Said Sam his eyebrows raising more and more as he read through the list of weapons. "There's enough here to start a large army, let alone a small one. Again I ask what was Nate thinking?"

"I don't know. He's apparently been taking any kind of job that pays." Sighed Michael. He hadn't had a chance to speak more to Nate this morning; he was still asleep when he left. His mother under strict orders not to let him leave.

"How did Nate plan on getting these weapons?"

"I don't know, but I don't think he planned on paying for them."

"So he must have some of them in storage then?" Sam looked hopeful.

"Past tense. That's why he's in trouble. Couple of nights ago the cops were tipped. They now have whatever he did have." He'd learnt that much from Bly on the journey to Miami.

"Damn Mikey. Less than three days. Fifty crates. Different locations. You think about just getting Nate out of town?"

Michael laughed slightly, "I would, but Calitri's got Bly employed as his personal blood hound. I can't tell which side he's on."

"Bly? Just like old times then." Sam handed the list back. "You talked to Fi?" The switch in topic was almost to fast for Michael. "Not yet." He mumbled as he sipped his beer.

"She'd be a good asset." Michael frowned at Sam's choice of words. "She's working a bar in south beach. Real high end thing. It's called Time." That was Sam's un-subtle way of telling Michael to go see her.

"Thanks." Grumbled Michael. He knew he had to see her. If they had any chance of pulling this off, Fiona needed to be in on it. She had all her contacts, the underground ones, the ones not even Sam could get to.

"No problem. I'll check some sources. Catch up to you later." Sam was smiling again.

Michael got up to leave, "It's good to see you Sam." He left before Sam could reply. He did not want to discuss the reasons for his leaving, the reasons for him staying away.

-BN—

Michael had barely made it across the street again when a smooth female voice caught his attention. "Well if it isn't Michael Westen."

"Detective Paxson." Grinned Michael as he turned round to see the woman who used to cause him so much grief. "What a pleasure." She was smiling at him but her smile was anything but friendly. More like a shark waiting for its dinner. Same as always.

"I got this call from a uniform, good man. He calls me up and tells me he just saw Michael Westen walking into Carlito's." She waved to Sam who was watching them both. "I tell him he's mistaken. Michael Westen wouldn't come back to Miami. He just got out. But he's adamant that it's you. So I drag my ass down here, and look who I find." She pulled her sunglasses off so she was looking him right in the eyes "Funny thing is, three nights ago I get called out to a storage depot explosion. Lots of guns. I had this thought, this feels like Michael Westen. Now it didn't have your finesse. But it just felt right."

"Sorry to disappoint. I just got back yesterday. Family emergency." Smiled Michael.

"Sure you did." She didn't look convinced. "Michael, you used to tell me we were on the same side. Yet, you reeked more havoc in Miami than the bad guys you said you were trying to stop." She shook her head, "Then six years ago you almost get yourself killed, so you do the smart thing and you leave before your get your friends and your brother killed."

Michael looked away from the woman giving him the history lesson. He didn't need a reminder of that day.

"Whatever the reason for your return. Whatever you're planning. I'll be watching."

"Just like old times then." Grinned Michael.

"Watch yourself Michael. You put one toe out of line and I'll have you locked up before you even think about spinning one of your stories." She turned and walked away. The threat hanging in the air. Michael tilted his head back and groaned. He did not need this; this job was already turning into his own worst nightmare. Having Paxson around was just making it all the worse.

He looked around the street, no marked police cars. Guess she wasn't going for the tailing option. He remembered how fun that had been the last time she had given him babysitters. Deciding now wasn't the best time to dwell on it. He'd let her play her hand, go from there. Giving a quick nod to Sam he went in search of Fiona.

-BN-

The Club Time was a twenty-four hour dance club for the rich and the pretty. It was decked out elegantly with its blue lighting and white furniture. The edges of the club had private booths for its VIP's separated from the masses by shimmering curtains and the occasional bodyguard. It was the perfect place for Fiona to find prospective buyers for her weapons. Michael skirted the edges of the VIP section hoping to see Fiona. That's where the high end bidders would be.

He found her in one of the booths at the far side, with two guards outside the curtains. A man in an expensive suit was sitting opposite her. Michael watched as the man stood up offering her his hand, she shook it before leaving. Taking the two bodyguards with him. When Sam said she was 'working a bar' he didn't expect her to be working out of the bar on a permanent basis. Her buyers were coming to her now.

Walking towards her booth he stepped inside "Fi." He smiled at her. God, how he'd missed her. She looked as stunning as ever. Her hair clipped back showing the long line of her neck. The tight dress that clung to the curve of her hips. It had been too long.

"Michael." Said Fiona her body tensing. "What are you doing here?"

They stared at each other for a long time, the seconds ticking past. Fiona recovered first "Did you want something?" she asked folding her arms beneath her chest, the surprise of seeing him vanishing and turning into something else. Something he couldn't quite pin point.

"I need your help."

Those four simple words seemed to spark something in Fiona. She uncrossed her arms and strutted towards him. Michael was so focused of the anger in her eyes that he didn't see her fist coming at him.

The blow knocked him backwards into one of the stuffed chairs. Falling over the back of it he landed on his back, a sudden pounding in his head. She was pissed. Getting to his feet he looked back at Fiona, her body tense in anticipation of a fight. Ok, she was more than pissed.

"Six years. Six years without a word from you." She threw another punch, this time he was able to block it. In doing so he missed the kick to his side. His breath whooshing out of his lungs as he doubled over. "Then you walk in here. To my bar, and have the audacity to ask for my help." She aimed another kick, this time at his head. Michael was able to grab her ankle, twisting so she lost her balance.

Fiona fell onto her back, her leg still in Michael's grip. She flung her other leg out catching him in the back of the knees. He crashed down beside her, letting go of her leg as he tried to break his floor. Fiona was back on her feet looking down at Michael who was already rolling away from her and standing in one fluid move.

"I don't want to hurt you." Said Michael as he stared at Fiona, bringing his hands up in a surrender gesture.

"Too bad." She shrugged "I do" she threw another punch, followed quickly by another. The trouble with trying to defend yourself without hurting your attacker becomes all the more difficult when they really want to hurt you.

"Damn it Fi, this isn't about me." He shouted as he jumped back from another kick.

"Of course it's not. It never is." She leaped forward punching high. Michael grabbed her wrist spinning her round so her back was pinned to his chest. His other hand going around her waist.

"Would you just listen to me?" Michael growled in her ear.

"I was done listening to you a long time ago." She kicked her foot backwards dragging her stiletto heel down his left shin. Michael let out a gasp of pain, his hold on Fiona loosening. She took the opportunity to thrust her elbow back and into his ribs. He let go of her as he dropped to his knees.

Fiona stared down at the only man she'd ever truly loved. How dare he come waltzing back into her life like this. She had been so angry at him for so long. Then finally, finally she thought she was over him. She had moved on. Got back to what she did best. Then he turns up out of the blue. It wasn't fair.

"Nate's in trouble." Michael wheezed. He sat back on his heels looking up at her. He saw her faulter slightly, some of the anger sliding away. "He took a job and he fumbled it."

"Don't do this Michael."

"I'm sorry, but I need your connections."

She screamed at him, her foot flying, hitting him in the jaw. He toppled over hitting the floor hard. Tasting blood in his mouth. "Get out!" The arrogant bastard. That was all she was to him, an asset.

Michael got to his feet slowly, holding his ribs with one hand while wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the other. She really wasn't going to help. Did he blame her? No, not really. "I'm sorry Fi. You've got a nice life here. I shouldn't disrupt that." He turned away from her heading to the curtain, pausing he looked back at her one last time. "Take care, Fi." He said before exiting the booth.

Fiona watched him leave, again. She wanted to scream at him. Hurt him like he'd hurt her. His final comment stinging and what made it worse was that he probably meant it.

-BN-


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I do not know anything about guns. The closest encounter I've had with a gun is a glue gun in primary school where the teacher miss-aimed. I still have the scars on my hand. Fun! All the guns I mention I found on a Burn Notice website. Don't shoot me.

-BN-

Michael limped into his mother's garage. That kick Fiona had given him was really starting to hurt, he could feel the blood running down his shin. Slumping down on a stool he lent his head on the bench rubbing his side where bruises were already developing. He was lucky Fiona hadn't broken any of his ribs, though he was sure it wasn't for lack of trying on her behalf.

"You look like shit." Said Nate walking into the garage.

Michael turned round to see Nate holding his chest. "You do know holding your chest doesn't help, right?"

Nate scowled at his older brother dropping his hand. "Talking about help, I never asked for yours."

"No, you didn't. But I'm here now, so just deal with it." Michael sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming just behind his eyes.

"Yeah, you're here now." Scoffed Nate. "Just in time to save the day."

Michael looked directly at Nate "Would you like me to leave? 'cause if you do, tough. I'm not going anywhere."

"You know what I want? I want my brother to be around when I want. Not just when he feels like it." Said Nate balling his fists.

"What, so I can bail you out on more occasions?" snapped Michael.

"I was doing just fine on my own." Shouted Nate.

"Running guns, is your idea of fine. What happened to your limo company and Ruby?"

"Her name is Ruth." Growled Nate. "She took the company in the divorce." Michael looked at his brother in confusion. "Oh that's right, you don't know about that because you never called home. Hell, you don't know anything."

"Then fill me in." Shouted Michael. He was getting sick and tired of people telling him how he'd ruined their lives because he wasn't around. If only they knew the truth.

"You left."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

"Damn it Michael. You didn't even say goodbye, you just leave the charger in Mom's driveway with a note saying I can have it. Was that your way of apologising?"

Michael didn't respond, yes he'd left the charger. Nate had always wanted it and he didn't need it anymore, didn't want it anymore. Too many memories, memories he needed to leave behind if he was going to survive moving on.

"You're not even going to give me an answer, are you? Yet you want me to tell you everything. Everything I've been doing with my life."

"No, not everything, just why this one? Why this job?"

Nate looked at his older brother. He looked for the accusation, the disappointment. But he couldn't see it. Of course it didn't mean it wasn't there. Michael was a spy, hiding his thoughts was all part of the job for him. "The money was good." He shrugged, ignoring how it pulled on his injuries.

"You don't go from limo driving to gun running in a day."

"Well, it took more than a day." Shrugged Nate nonchalantly. "After Ruth left I came home. Found myself doing what I do best, gambling and taking odd jobs." He smiled at Michael but it was anything but friendly. "Turns out I learnt a lot from you when you were 'helping people' it came in handy."

"Running guns is not helping people."

"No, but neither is running away. Yet you do that with expert skill." Sneered Nate.

"Is that what you think, that I ran away?" Michael stood up, looking straight at his brother. "You might not like that I left; you might not even like that I'm here, right now. But I am and we have a little less than sixty hours to find these guns and get them to that container ship or you, me and Mom are all dead. So you can either help, or you can get out of the way. Your choice." Michael stared down at his younger brother; he was taking no more crap. If Nate wanted to have it out with him then he could do it after they survived this job.

"Fine." Stared back Nate, his gaze unwavering.

"This is why I do not work with family." Interrupted Sam. The brothers looked up at him, "Jeeze Mikey what happened?"

"Fiona did, you got something?"

"Damn, was she trying to kill you?"

Michael only scowled at Sam. The same thought running through his head. "What have you got?"

"Six names and locations of arms dealers in Miami." Sam held out a file for Michael. He watched the way Michael moved as he walked. He was favouring his right leg as he walked and holding his upper body stiffly. "Anything broken?"

"No." Growled Michael as he took the file. "Do you know what each dealer has a hold of?"

"Not exactly, a buddy of mine should be able to confirm that within a couple of hours. Have you eaten today? You're looking rather pale."

"I'm fine, Sam." Said Michael as he limped back to his stool. "Nate, I need a list of the dealers you already ripped off and what you took."

"Sure." Nate turned and left the garage without another word.

"Everything ok between you two?" asked Sam.

"Same as always." Answered Michael without looking up. Sam didn't look convinced; he'd never seen his friend look so worn down. "Are you going to let me look at your leg?"

"I told you I'm fine."

"Sure you are Mike. But if you're so fine why is there a blood stain on your jeans?" Michael looked down at his leg and sure enough the blood had soaked through. "Where's the med-kit?"

"In the front room." Sighed Michael. There was no point in hiding it anymore, might as well just give in. He watched as Sam went into the house before he started to roll his trouser leg up. The fabric having already stuck to his skin, he winced as he pulled it away. The blood running freely down his shin from the stab wound Fiona had caused with her heel. He couldn't remember the exact amount of pressure stiletto heels gave but it had something to do with elephants.

Michael was brought out of his thoughts by Sam returning with the kit. Sam's eyes widening at the sight of Michael's leg. "What did you say to cause her to do this much damage?"

"Obviously not what she wanted to hear." Deadpanned Michael. "Maybe you could talk to her, get her to give us some names."

"Please tell me that wasn't the only think you talked about?"

"We didn't really talk. I was too busy ducking her fists."

"That bad, huh?" Sam started cleaning away the blood that was stuck to Michael's leg before he got the disinfectant out.

"That bad." Said Michael through gritted teeth.

"Did you call her at all while you were gone?" asked Sam as he wrapped the wound in a clean bandage. He looked up at Michael who was staying silent. He guessed that was a no then. The look on Michael's face said he didn't want to talk about it. "Done, how's your ribs?" he said changing the topic.

"Just bruised." Michael pulled his shirt up so Sam could have a look. He gritted his teeth as Sam prodded around the bruise that was already forming. Sam nodded in approval of Michael's diagnosis before he stepped away and packed the kit away.

"How big are these dealers?" asked Michael letting his shirt fall back in place.

"These four are only small time." Said Sam pointing at the list. "But we should be able to get all the handguns we're after from them. Probably some of the submachine guns too."

Michael nodded "And the other two?"

"This guy, Aleksey Kuznetsov. He deals in heavy weapons. Should be able to get the M203 grenade launchers from him probably the Barrett M82 and the M47 Dragon."

"And the last guy, Hyun Yi?"

"Yeah, about him. We could probably get most of what we need from him. Though personally I think we should avoid him."

"Why?"

"The last guy that ripped him off ended up in with his limbs cut off and his tongue ripped out then he was delivered to a hospital. The guy lived. Forever trapped in his own body. We get caught I'd rather we just get shot."

"Noted." Smiled Michael. He'd see what Nate gave them, but if it meant having to steal from ten guys what he could get from one. He'd take the risk."

-BN-


	6. Chapter 6

-BN-

"Fiona Glenanne."

Fiona looked up from the drink she had been staring at. She sighed, rolling her eyes at the woman who stood in front of her. She should have known she would show up sooner or later. Michael comes back into town and so do all of his troubles.

"Detective Paxson, it's been a while."

"Hmmm." Paxson sat down opposite her, looking her over. "We need to talk."

"Let me guess, you heard Michael is back in town so you thought you'd come sniffing around here."

"Well actually, I'd thought I'd ask nicely first. But if you are unwilling we could look closer at you and your business associates." Paxson smiled at her.

"Don't give me that crap," spat Fiona. "I give you enough information to take down the whole of the Miami underworld."

"Yes, you do, and in return you get to stay in business. So do not chastise me about crap." Paxson glared at Fiona. They had an understanding between them and Fiona hated it. It went against everything she ever believed in. Hell, she'd been disgusted when Sam had been informing to the FBI all those years ago. Yet here she was, doing exactly that, to Paxson of all people. But then she had become reckless, careless. Michael had left her, left Miami. She had no idea where he had gone or if she'd ever see him again. It was Dublin all over again.

Except this time she had gone too far. She had been caught of all things. She had blown up a yacht in the Biscayne Bay, a thousand flaming splinters raining into the bay and the near causeway. But she didn't get away clean. Paxson had been watching the boat, hoping to get the drug dealer that owned it. She'd picked Fiona up instead. All she had to do was tell Paxson the location of the drug dealer and the man that hired her. She did that and she could carry on walking. One thing led to another and before she knew it she was handing over information like it was going out of fashion.

Paxson was smiling again "Now tell me what I need to know and I'll see that we don't make our conversations official."

Fiona smirked. "I don't know anything."

Paxson leaned forward, staring Fiona in the eyes. Fiona matched her. "I don't know anything. Michael and I didn't talk."

"I watched him walk in here."

"Then you would have watched him limp out." Fiona sat back in the chair, taking a sip of her drink. She knew she had to give Paxson something or she would continue to sit there for the rest of the night. Persistent bitch. "He did mention that he was here to help Nate, which usually means giving him money." She shrugged looking out across the club. She could feel Paxson watching her, but paid little heed. Things stopped being scary when the threats were never carried out.

"You call me if you hear of anything," said Paxson, standing up.

"Always do," Fiona deadpanned. She watched Paxson leave her thoughts more on Michael now than ever. "Damn you, Michael," she mumbled as she stood up and exited the bar.

-BN-

Michael sat in Carlito's for the second time that day or night now. He was waiting for Seymour the arms dealer to turn up. Supposedly Seymour could give them information on another arms dealer.

When Sam had told him Seymour was still in Miami he didn't quite believe him. The man was incompetent at the best of times. When he had his bodyguard, and Michael used the term loosely, it was a recipe for disaster. He was surprised they both weren't dead.

Looking at his watch again he was about to call it a night when Seymour and his plus one showed up.

"Well if it isn't Michael Westen. Didn't expect to see you in Miami again," said Seymour with a grin sitting down opposite him.

"Wasn't expecting it myself," said Michael. "Have you got what I asked for?"

"What, no small talk?"

Michael stared at Seymour, showing how much he was not in the mood. Seymour's smile faded slightly before he pulled out a briefcase. Opening it, he got out a brown A4 envelope and pushed it across the table to Michael.

"You'll find the locations of four crates of MAC 10's, two crates of IMI Uzi's, two crates of Heckler and Koch MP7s and a crate of M4A1s."

Michael handed over a smaller brown envelope which contained cash, picking up the envelope Seymour had given him he stood up to leave.

"Feel free to use that C4 you're so handy with. One less competition in this business would be a real help, man."

Michael didn't dignify that with an answer, instead he only turned and left, heading for his mother's car. Or that was the plan. Before he could reach the car something hit him in the back of the head. He fell to the ground, dropping the envelope. A kick to his side made him curl up on his side to try and protect himself.

"Get him up," said a man's voice above him. Michael found himself being dragged to his feet, two sets of hands pinning his arms behind his back. He looked up to see who the man who had spoken was, but he didn't recognise him. He was Hispanic, young, and looked to be in his mid-twenties. His head was shaved, a blank bandana tied to the side of his head, black vest and baggy jeans that hung low round his hips. "Your brother stole my gig."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael glared. The man smirked before he punched him in the gut. Air whooshed out of Michael's lungs but he was prevented from bending forward by the two men holding his arms.

"Don't lie. Your brother has stolen too many jobs from me. He don't get this one." He threw another punch to Michael's gut.

"As much as I'd like to give you this job, I can't. Goes against the contract."

A fist connected with Michael's jaw, re-opening the cut that Fiona had made earlier in the day. Michael spat out blood before looking back at the man. The man he didn't even know the name of. He was about to say something when the sound of glass shattering close by sounded.

The man turned around stepping out of the way so Michael could see what had got his attention. A woman stood next to a black BMW, crowbar in hand. "Get away from my car, bitch," he shouted.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Johnny?" came the familiar voice of Fiona. She swung the crowbar again, smashing the back window of the car. "Tut tut."

"Do you know who you're messing with?" shouted Johnny. Fiona laughed as she took out a lighter from her jeans pocket, lighting the end of a white piece of cloth hanging out the fuel tank. She walked towards them, crowbar resting on her shoulder.

The car exploded behind her. The body of the vehicle was engulfed in flames, the remaining windows shattered, the glass raining down on the pavement. Michael could feel the heat of the fire. The grip on his arms getting tighter, he'd have bruises tomorrow. Car alarms from surrounding vehicles were sounding, people were screaming as they ran away from the scene. Yet if Fiona noticed any of this you couldn't tell, she continued to walk towards Johnny smiling the whole time.

Michael's attention was drawn back to Johnny as he reached to the small of his back, going for a gun. Using the grip the two guys had on his arms to his advantage, he lifted his legs up and kicked Johnny in the back. He flew forward, right into Fiona's incoming fist. He crumpled to the ground.

The two guys who had a hold of Michael let go of him. Michael punched the one on the left, knocking him back; he turned to the one on his right, getting a fist to the side of the head. He staggered back as the world spun around him. Raising his arms up in defence, he was able to block another hit.

He kicked out in front of him, smiling at the sound of flesh being hit. Standing up straighter, he looked down at the man who was now on his knees, clutching his groin. A punch to the head had the man curled up on the ground. Michael turned round to see Fiona using her crowbar on the guy who had held him. She hit him in the knee, his leg crumpling beneath him. He hit the ground hard, letting out a loud shriek.

Michael walked over to Johnny. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, he pulled him to his feet. Slamming the man chest first into the nearest car, Michael pulled Johnny's arm behind his back, putting pressure on the joints.

"I see you again and I'll do more than just kick you to the curb, understand?" growled Michael.

"Fuck you man," spat Johnny.

Michael pulled on Johnny's arm until he heard the shoulder joint pop. He let Johnny go as the man screamed in agony, holding his arm close to his body. Looking at him, Michael knew that Johnny would kill him now if he was given half a chance. He should shoot him, save himself the trouble. Watching the man scream he felt nothing. He knew he should feel something but he didn't. He just didn't.

"Michael, we should go," said Fiona, drawing his attention away from the man that withered at his feet. "Michael!"

Michael looked up, noticing the sirens that sounded in the distance, getting closer. "Right." He walked to the car, starting the engine, surprised when Fiona got in the passenger seat.

"No questions, I'm here for Nate."

-BN—


	7. Chapter 7

-BN-

Fiona watched Michael as he drove back to Madeline's house. He was bleeding from a cut beneath his left eye, the blood running down his cheek, dripping onto his shirt. His split lip was also bleeding. Yet all his focus was on the road ahead. He was scowling at it. Fiona had never seen Michael scowl. Frown, yes. But not scowl. Something was bothering him.

Of course something was bothering _her_. She had never seen Michael be so, so cruel. Dislocating Johnny's shoulder just because he swore at him... It wasn't something Michael would do. Her brother, Sean? Yes, in a heartbeat. But this wasn't her Michael. The shadows in his eyes told her something had happened while he'd been away, something bad.

"You're staring at me," said Michael, still looking at the road ahead.

"Am I?" She shrugged as she turned to look out the window.

"Yes."

"Just wondering who you are. The Michael I knew wouldn't have done that to Johnny."

"People change," growled Michael.

Fiona turned to look at him again. "What happened to you?"

Michael glanced at her before looking back at the road, not answering her question.

"Michael, talk to me."

"Oh, now you want to talk." He scoffed.

"You left," she spat. All the anger she had felt before returning again. All that hurt.

"I asked you to come with me," he sighed. "You didn't."

She folded her arms underneath her chest slumping down in the seat, the memories of that final day six years ago coming back to her.

_Michael stood in front of her, his wounds still fresh. She could see him trying to stand up straight but his wounds not allowing it. He looked so pale, the bruises that covered one side of his jaw and neck standing out in a harsh contrast. The bombshell that he'd just delivered her still ringing in her ears. He was leaving._

"_Fi, come with me. We could make a life together, somewhere where people aren't trying to kill us."_

_She just continued to stare at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. What exactly was he asking of her?_

"_Fi? It would be a new start. Just you and me."_

_She looked at the new car next to him, his bags already loaded in the trunk. "You're going now?"_

"_End of the day," he said grimly. This was it; what she wanted. Michael to herself. No threat of his burn notice hanging over their head. A normal life. But why did they have to leave? She had made a life here in Miami. It was as settled as she'd ever been since leaving Ireland._

"_Michael, I…." What could she say? Yes? She should say yes. But something was holding her back. Why such the rush for him to leave now, today? Nate hadn't even woken up yet. Was he hiding something? She didn't want to start something new on lies. Michael continued to watch her, not saying anything. This shouldn't be so hard._

"_I'll be at the pier until six. I hope you're with me," sighed Michael as he walked back up the stairs to his loft._

_-BN—_

_The broken down vehicle was blocking her way. She was going to be too late. Flinging open the car door she started to run as fast as her legs would take her. Pushing past people not caring how much damage she did. She had to get there. _

_She could see the pier now. Putting on an extra burst of speed she picked up her pace. Her lungs were on fire, her muscles burning as she pushed her body further. She had to get there._

_She could see him; he was leaning against the side of the car. He was looking at his watch, looking at the crowd._

"_Michael," she screamed. He didn't hear her, there were too many people. "Michael!" She watched as he got in the car. No, he was leaving. Leaving without her. She tripped, falling to the ground skidding across the concrete. Pain burst through her hands and knees as the gravel bit into her skin. Scrambling to her feet she ignored it and pushed forward._

_The car with Michael in it was pulling away. She screamed his name again. Ignoring the people staring at her, she pushed forward. Look back, look back, she screamed though her mind. The car was getting further away. He wasn't looking back. He was gone._

_She stared at the last point she had seen the car with Michael in. The place where the traffic had engulfed him. She had lost sight of him. He hadn't looked back._

_The tears were falling freely down her cheeks. She had no cell phone, no way of catching him, no way of getting him back. He was gone._

-BN—


	8. Chapter 8

Michael walked through the front door of his mother's house, the file Seymour had given him in hand, Fiona right behind him. They had barely spoken in the car, each dwelling on their own thoughts of that day six years ago. He squashed the memory down. He did not want to think about it. She chose not to turn up. It had been her choice.

"Hey Mike, you're back. What took so lo…" Sam stopped mid sentence as he got a good look at Michael. "Can't you go anywhere without picking a fight?"

"I didn't start this one," grumbled Michael.

"You never do. Who was it this time?" smiled Sam drinking his beer.

"I don't know."

"Johnny Benitez," said Fiona, taking a seat at the table next to Nate.

"What? Johnny B.? Bro, tell me you didn't?" sighed Nate.

"You know him?" asked Michael.

"Kinda," shrugged Nate. "It's been awhile since we crossed paths."

"Yeah? Well, he's not happy with you. Something about stealing his jobs?"

"No, I just gave a better price," smirked Nate. "Johnny has got no head for business."

Michael sighed at what his brother was saying. He'd made an enemy purely by undercutting the nearest bidder every time. That's good if you're trading stocks, not if you're trading guns. People had a tendency to end up dead if you were too obvious about it.

"Don't give me that look," snapped Nate.

"What look?" asked Michael, confused.

"That look. The 'you've screwed up again' look."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh no, Michael, I see it too," added Fiona.

"Children, can we play nice and look at the information Seymour gave us?" said Sam as he tried to diffuse the already volatile situation. He'd never seen Michael and Nate act like this towards each other. Such hostility.

"You know what, Michael? I can handle this," said Nate, ignoring Sam.

"We've been through this. You're in over your head."

"Says you. I've been doing just fine on my own."

"Nate, would you listen to yourself?" snapped Michael. "You've got two days left to collect everything and deliver. You can't do this alone."

"Well, I don't need your help. This isn't middle school," shouted Nate.

"Glad you noticed," Michael huffed.

Nate stood up, pushing his chair back with such force that it toppled over. "We were doing just fine before you came back."

"Good. As soon as this is over I'm gone. You can go back to your life," Michael said his own voice raising.

"Sounds good," Nate spat.

"Good, now all you have to do is live through this job and you'll be fine. Which isn't going to happen if I leave."

"You arrogant bastard," shouted Nate getting up in his brother's face. "You think we can't cope without you. That we'd just fall apart? You are so wrong!"

"Am I? Look what's happened."

Michael saw Nate's fist coming but was powerless to do anything, he was too close. Before he could get his hands up to block he felt the sharp pain at his temple. His head snapped back hitting the wall behind him.

Sam was already rushing forward to pull Nate back as the first punch was thrown. He got there too late, wincing at the sound of Michael's head smacking against the wall. Holding Nate back so he couldn't hit Michael again, he watched as Michael collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Sighing, he walked Nate back to the table, sitting him down next to Fiona again before going back to check on Michael. Rolling him onto his side, he checked that he was breathing and his pulse was steady. With that confirmed he grabbed the brown envelope from the floor which Michael had dropped and threw it at Nate.

"Go through the information, add it to what we've already got. Explain the details to Fi," he said as he walked past to retrieve the med kit again. He might as well patch up Michael's new wounds while he was unconscious. There would be no complaining this time.

-BN-

Jason Bly watched as Calitri's guards dragged out a man to the middle of the steel yard. The man was bleeding from several places. His right wrist looked to be broken and possibly his jaw too by the amount of bruises and swelling that was showing. Bly was surprised he was still breathing. Calitri's men had worked him over all through the night.

As the first rays of the morning sun burst through the sky the man was shoved to the ground, whimpering. With one hand he pushed himself up to his knees, looking to the doors where he had just been brought out of. Calitri came walking outside loading a clip into his handgun.

Bly thought it was overly dramatic to be doing that in front of the guy who was so scared already he was probably about to wet his pants. But he didn't say anything. There was no point. The man was going to get shot either way. It all depended on what the guy said to where the bullet went.

"You've disappointed me, Eddie," said Calitri, still looking at his gun.

"I...I'm sorry Mr Calitri," stuttered the man. Bly sighed, that was not a good start. He just confirmed he did something wrong.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," snapped Calitri, looking down at the man for the first time. "I told you to do a job and you failed. I do not like failures."

"I didn't..."

"Do you know what I do to failures?" interrupted Calitri.

"Please Mr Calitri, I have a family. A wife, a..."

Bly shook his head, he could see the tears rolling down the man's face, mingling with his own blood. It was no use appealing to Calitri's better nature. He didn't have one.

"Yes, two little girls. I know," smiled Calitri. "They really are a beauty."

Bly looked up in surprise. He wouldn't have, would he?

Calitri signalled to one of his men who went back inside the factory, coming back shortly after dragging a screaming woman and two other men carrying two crying children. The men threw the woman and both girls to the floor where they huddled together on the ground.

"Shit," Bly muttered to himself. He stood up straighter his hand going towards his own gun. He could not stand by and watch Calitri kill those kids. The man he didn't care about, he was just another scumbag.

"What did I promise you, Eddie?" asked Calitri.

"Mr. Calitri, please. They have done nothing wrong," begged the man on the ground, the tears running in rivers down his cheeks.

"I am a man of my word, Eddie," Calitri snarled.

Before Bly could do anything Calitri had spun round and shot the woman. Her screams died before she hit the ground, blood spraying the children. The high pitched screams from the little girls was near deafening. Bly bowed his head, that woman did not deserve to die because her husband worked for a psychopath.

"NO!" yelled the man. He was on his feet faster than Bly thought possible, rushing towards Calitri. But Calitri heard him coming. He spun round and shot the man in the knee. Eddie crumpled to the ground, his yells turning to screams.

Calitri stood over him, aiming the gun at his other leg. "The cops found out, Eddie. How did that happen?"

"I...I...I don't know," gasped Eddie. Calitri shot the man in the other knee, blood spraying Calitri's shoes. If Calitri noticed, it didn't show.

"You were the only one who knew."

"No, I..." His words turned to screams as Calitri shot out one of his shoulder joints. Bly couldn't believe it. He was here to get information on Calitri for his superiors, but right now all he wanted to do was shoot him. He needed to stop this; he did not want to witness those kids being shot just like their mother. Bly walked forward slowly as he didn't want to startle Calitri and get himself shot in the process.

"I know you did. My sources do not lie. Not to me. Nobody lies to me. Yet here you are, lying."

"Calitri..." said Bly, trying to get his attention.

Calitri ignored him. Instead, turning, he shot one of the girls. The man was shouting again wordlessly. The remaining girl's screams were mixed with her sobs. Her white dress was stained red from her sister's and mother's blood.

Bly growled low in his throat. "Calitri, don't do this," he warned taking out his own gun.

"Nobody lies to me," growled Calitri as he shot the last little girl. The yard was now eerily silent. Bly wasn't even sure if he himself was breathing, but he had his gun pointed at Calitri. He should shoot him. Damn his superiors, he shouldn't have to make these kind of decisions. So what if the information he got while in the employ of Calitri brought down a bigger crime syndicate? Those girls did not deserve to die.

Calitri looked at him, his eyes cold and distant. No emotion. Bly bowed his head. He couldn't change today, and he couldn't bring back those girls. Holstering his gun, he stared back at Calitri. He vowed to himself, if it was the last thing he did, he'd see Calitri dead.

"Goodbye, Eddie," said Calitri, no emotion in his voice. He shot the man in the chest, but it wasn't a kill shot. The man was lying on his back, gasping for air. His back bowing, his hands clawing at the ground. Bly could hear the man gurgling as his blood bubbled up his throat. The minutes seemed to last hours as the man tried to gasp for air, staring straight into Calitri's face, until finally he died.

Calitri looked up at his men. "Get this shit off my land," he ordered. Turning away from the four dead bodies he'd just created, he walked over to Bly. His gun coming up and connecting with Bly's jaw.

"You disagree with my methods?"

Bly could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had cut his gums. Spitting out the blood, he looked back up at Calitri locking eyes with him. He would not show how rattled he was. He would not show how much he wanted to pull out his gun and shoot him right where he stood. It would be so easy. Calitri would be dead before he hit the ground. Before his men could fire a shot in return. But it was against orders and he was here to do a job.

"Whatever gets the job done," he said, spitting out more blood.

Calitri stared at him before he holstered his gun at the small of his back. "I like you, Jason," said Calitri smiling. "You don't disappoint. You found the brother, you brought him here. But I don't hear anything about my guns."

The change in topic was almost too quick for Bly but he smiled in return.

"If I know Michael, nobody will hear anything until those weapons are in the container."

"I don't like that. I want to know what's going on." Calitri got up close to Bly, the smile gone. "I want you to keep an eye on Nate Westen. Make sure he doesn't try running."

"And if he does?"

"Stop him. No killing, I get that pleasure. Him and his brother. Just make sure the brother gets me those guns," Calitri ordered before walking back inside, ignoring the bodies littering the ground like it was normal. Which for him, it was.

-BN—


	9. Chapter 9

:Sam looked at his watch for what had to be the millionth time. He'd been sitting in this car for more than two hours, watching the same warehouse. So far he'd seen nobody. No guards, no civilians, no people what so ever. He double checked the address. Yup, he was in the right place.

Harry Lattimer's storage garage. He was one of the small time gun runners on their list. They had one day to scout them all, all the gun runners they were planning to steal from. He thought they'd done the impossible before, but this was going to top all of that. Even if they actually managed to pull this off, if people found out about it. There would be more people after their heads than there was after Michael's when he first got burned.

The passenger door of the car suddenly opened. Sam had his gun out and pointed before the person had sat down.

"Michael?" sighed Sam putting the gun away.

"Sam," smiled Michael as he closed the door behind him.

"Well rested?"

"You left me on the floor," said Michael, astounded.

Sam grinned, "Nate refused to help carry you. Dragging seemed like a bad idea," he shrugged "Fi gave you a pillow."

"Thanks Sam that made all the difference."

"Mikey..."

"So what we got?" interrupted Michael, turning to look at the storage lock up.

Sam watched him for a second before he answered.

"Harry Lattimer owns the locker third from the end. There is no extra security, just the rent-a-cop on the front gate. There is one camera on the gate, another inside which rotates across the driveway. Honestly, this looks to be easy pickings."

Michael looked back at Sam. He didn't like Sam using the word easy. Every job that Sam called easy turned out to be anything but.

"Do we know what he has stored in there?"

"Buddy of mine came through. Lattimer's got mainly handguns. Glocks, Walter PPKs, Berretta's. He does have MAC-10's though, a lot of them. It should fill our quota."

"Good, what's next?" asked Michael.

"I've been to the guy Seymour gave us. His information is actually pretty good. Got everything we need. Fi is checking out Kuznetsov and Nate is looking into the other three smaller dealers I showed you."

"Okay, let's head over to Hyun Yi's."

"What? Mike, you serious? I thought I told you that was a bad idea."

"You did, but I want to check out all our options. I don't want to come up short."

Sam didn't look convinced, but he nodded and started the car engine "Okay then."

-BN—

Fiona hated surveillance. It was boring and tedious. Sitting in this car watching a warehouse because it might belong to the gun-runner Kuznetsov was not her idea of a good time. She couldn't even put the air conditioning on because that meant she'd have to turn the engine on. Which could give away her position if this really was the place.

She watched a man in jeans and a shirt walk past the warehouse for the second time. It could just be a coincidence. But she picked her camera up and took his picture. Another man walked past. She'd seen him too. Definitely not a coincidence. Zooming in with the camera she could see the distinctive line of a gun beneath his jacket. Guess this was the place. They were good: no uniforms, all of different races and builds. No conformity. The only thing the same was their weapon of choice they all carried.

Putting the camera down Fiona pulled out her phone and called Sam.

"_Hello?"_

"Sam, I'm done here."

"_Michael and I are heading to Hyun Yi's."_

"You think that's wise?" asked Fiona. Stealing from Hyun Yi was suicide.

"_Michael does."_

"Of course he does," she said rolling her eyes.

"_Just meet us there," _Sam ordered.

"Fine." Fiona hung up before Sam could say anything else. Looking back at the warehouse she took some final pictures of the security cameras before she started the engine and drove off.

Clearly Michael's sense of survival hadn't improved in the time he'd been gone. You don't steal from a man like Hyun Yi. You shoot him.

-BN—

Michael was watching Hyun Yi's house which was on the other side of the bay to him. The term 'house' was an understatement. Mansion or compound was a better description. An eight foot wall surrounded the property. There were only two ways in; the front driveway and the rear dock. A rotating guard patrolled the inner circumference of the property, all armed with submachine guns.

There was a small boat in the bay that was continually going up and down the bay. Two men were on board; again, both armed. Security cameras were positioned in various places. All fixed, meaning no blind spots.

"I told you it was a bad idea," said Sam.

Michael put the binoculars down and turned to look at him. "Where does he store the weapons?"

"In the outbuilding near the docks," sighed Sam.

Michael turned to look back at the docks, scanning the area until he spotted the outbuilding. More guards were positioned at the entrance to the building. An electronic lock of some kind was on the wall. It was possible that they would be able to crack it without seeing it up close. But if they were really going to break into that building they had to do it the first time they entered the property.

"It can be done," Michael nodded as he turned back to look at Sam.

"That's stupid."

"I would suggest C4. Lots of it," smiled Fiona as she walked towards them. "Possibly a bullet between Hyun Yi's eyes while we're at it."

"If we do this, we do it quietly," said Michael.

"Then you won't be leaving alive," she pointed out.

Sam looked back at the house. "I mean, maybe if we had more time to plan. But we've got less than forty-two hours until those guns have to be in the container. It's just not possible," he shrugged.

"As much as I hate to agree with him, but Sam's right." Fiona looked at the house, "Of course, an RPG-7 fired at the house would be a fabulous distraction."

"That's a little more attention than I think we need."

Fiona only shrugged to Michael's comment, clearly not agreeing with him.

"What did Kuznetsov's place look like?"

"The rotating cameras provide adequate blind spots and the lock would need nothing more than a good pair of bolt cutters. Take out the guards. Nothing to it."

"Good. Sam, you get the pictures?" asked Michael.

"Yeah, I got the pictures," sighed Sam as he raised the camera taking the last couple of pictures.

"Okay, let's go," said Michael. Plans were already forming in his head on the best way to attack the outbuilding.

-BN-


	10. Chapter 10

"It's about time," grumbled Nate as he walked out of their mother's house towards Michael as he got out of Sam's car. "I swear Bly gets more annoying the more you see him."

"Bly is here?" asked Michael.

"No, I just thought I'd tell you what I thought of the guy."

Michael rolled his eyes at his brother's sarcasm. "Where is he?"

"I'm right here," said Bly coming out of the garage. "We need to talk."

Michael looked over to Fiona, nodding for her to go inside. She scowled, grabbing the camera from him before walking inside. Sam shrugged his shoulders before following her. Nate looked between Michael and Bly. When neither spoke he grumbled something that the other two couldn't hear before going back inside.

"What do you want?" asked Michael.

Bly ignored Michael's question and asked one of his own. "Are you going to be able to pull this off?"

Michael only sighed. He was wondering the same thing. The job was getting bigger and bigger. There were more variables, more things that could go wrong. That was never a good thing.

"Calitri's back there planning your brother's demise," said Bly as he leaned against Madeline's car.

"Figures," huffed Michae,l folding his arms. Would it be too much to ask for Calitri to hold up his end of the deal?

"I've been wondering if it was a good idea to come get you. Thrusting you back into this shit."

Michael ignored Bly's comment. He did not have time to stroke egos right now.

"Calitri wants to be seeing results."

"Tell Calitri to back off," snapped Michael. "We do this my way. You remember my way?"

"Yeah I remember, remember it like what I had for breakfast this morning," laughed Bly.

"My way works. Never been caught."

"Never had this big of a job before."

Michael knew this was true, but he wasn't about to admit that to Bly of all people. "Just keep Calitri off my back. I'll get the job done." He turned away from Bly to go inside.

"Yeah about that. Calitri's ordered me to watch your brother. He thinks Nate is going to skip town on him."

"Nate's not going anywhere. Not yet at least."

Bly arched an eyebrow up at Michael. "You're worried?"

"Only for Nate," sighed Michael.

"I've got something for you." He held out a folder to Michael.

"What?" Michael turned back to Bly; he was done with this conversation. Nothing ever went to plan when Bly was involved. The less he saw of him, the better.

"I've got the location and contents of a government weapons storage, off book of course." Bly smiled at Michael's look of surprise. "Don't worry, no spy is going to be needing that storage. He just happens to be dead."

Bly placed the folder on the car roof before he walked away calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow Michael."

-BN—

Michael walked into the garage to see Sam and Nate were leaning over the bench. "Where's Fi?"

"Getting those pictures printed," answered Sam without looking up.

"What did Bly want?" asked Nate.

"Just telling us good news."

"Really?" asked Nate looking skeptical.

"No, Calitri wants us both dead."

"Jeeze Mike," said Sam looking at him now. "Why the heck are we doing this then? I say we just get out of town while we still can."

"No. We hold our end up. We finish this on our terms."

Sam didn't look convinced. "What you got there?" he said pointing to the folder Michael had in his hand.

"Bly gave it to me. Another location of weapons."

"You trust him?"

"No, I'm going to check it out now."

"I'm coming," said Nate.

"No, I want you here with Mom."

"Michael, I'm not staying with her. She's driving me crazy with her fussing."

"Didn't you hear? Calitri wants us dead."

"Yeh, I heard. All the more reason for me not to be here." Nate stared at his older brother, willing him to understand him. For once to see his side, to believe him.

Michael only stared back, taking in everything about his brother.

"I'll stay. Got to wait for Fi to come back anyway," offered Sam trying to diffuse the situation before one got started.

"Fine," said Michael breaking eye contact first. "I'm driving." He snatched up the keys to his mother's car and stormed out the garage.

-BN—

"So this is it?" asked Nate as he looked at the boathouse.

"Yeh," said Michael without looking at him.

"Doesn't look like much."

"What did you expect? A glowing sign that says come help yourself?"

Nate turned to look at his brother. For the first time since this whole mess had started he really looked at him. There was a tightness around his eyes. He looked paler than he used too. It didn't help that various shades of bruising were developing.

"When did you last sleep?"

"When you knocked me out," Michael answered still looking at the boathouse.

"Dude, wasn't it you that told me being unconscious wasn't the same as resting?"

"Only when I was referring to you."

Nate laughed slightly. Yeah, that sounded like his brother. One set of rules for him and another for everybody else.

Silence filled the car again. Both brothers were looking at the boathouse, which for all intent and purpose looked abandoned.

"You know it would have been nice if you'd said goodbye."

Michael turned to look at Nate. He'd spoken so quietly he was unsure that he heard right.

"Maybe even called." Nate looked at Michael now, searching for an answer. Anything that would explain to him why his brother had left. Left and then seemingly dropped out of existence, again.

Michael thought about his answer, there was no way he could explain the reasoning behind his leaving that would make sense to Nate. There was no way he could explain his reasoning without either insulting his brother or hurting him more than he already had.

He could lie, make something up. He was good at that. But the truth always had a way of coming back. If he did that, Nate would hate him more than ever. They might not be able to work it out.

"Nate, I..."

Gunfire sounded from the behind the rear of the car. _Pop, pop, pop, pop. _

Bullets pierced the body of the vehicle, holes appearing in the bodywork, glass shattering spraying the tarmac. Metal buckled in on itself as the car folded under the impact. The tires exploding as bullets sliced into them.

Gasoline snaked across the ground from the leaking tank. A stray bullet lighting the end. The trail of fire raced back towards the car, the flames engulfing the undercarriage sending the remnants of the car flying several feet into the air before crashing down, metal and glass and fire flying in every direction.

-BN—


	11. Chapter 11

"_Nate I..."_

The sound of glass shattering was the first thing they heard. Then came the gunfire. Michael bent forward taking cover behind his seat, pulling Nate down with him.

"What the hell?" shouted Nate.

The wing-mirror by Michael exploded, shattering the window. Glass rained down on him.

"We've got to get out!" he shouted back at Nate.

He pushed his brother away from him, keeping his head down low. Nate didn't need telling twice. He fumbled for the door handle and flung the door open. Staying down low he crawled out. There didn't seem to be anybody on this side of the car. Taking the opportunity and trusting that Michael was right behind him, he made a mad dash for some cover.

Michael watched as Nate ran away from the car, the gunfire continuing. Michael felt the car drop, the tires having been blown out. He had to get out of the car and fast. Who knew how long he had until one of the bullets hit the gas tank?

Crawling into the passenger seat, he looked out across the empty space. Keeping low, he ran towards Nate who was crouched between a dumpster and a fence.

"It's Johnny and his crew," said Nate when he came to a stop next to him. "Why the hell is he shooting at us?" he said, outraged.

"'Cause Fi blew up his car."

"I say again: why is he shooting at_ us_?"

Michael didn't dignify that with an answer. He peered round the dumpster to see how many were shooting at them. He could see Johnny and the two men that were with him the other night. There were also two other men. Five in total: not the worse odds he'd had. Of course, they were all carrying sub-machine guns and all he had was his SIG, plus whatever Nate was carrying. Which would do them little to no good, their best chance of survival was too run. Or a tactical retreat for better words. Coming back behind the dumpster, he looked at the surrounding area. No cover from here to the end of the street. They'd be sitting ducks. Their only option was to get over the fence that blocked off a housing development.

Crawling forward, Michael kicked at the wooden panels until some of them came loose. Pulling them out of the way until he had made a hole big enough so they could both squeeze through.

An explosion ripped through the night air, the gunfire coming to a halt.

"Go," ordered Michael, pushing Nate through the hole. He followed through quickly. With any luck Johnny would believe they were dead and leave it at that. Of course, the likely hood of that happening was slim to none.

He was running to catch up with Nate when he heard shouts coming from the other side of the fence, followed quickly by engines revving and tires squealing. Guess Johnny didn't believe them to be dead.

He picked up his pace, overtaking Nate and leading them down an alley that would take them another street further away from Johnny and his crew.

"You think we lost them?" panted Nate as they slowed to a walk five minutes later.

"I hope so," Michael answered still looking around, hyper aware of the area. He was leading the two of them back to the main road. Even if Johnny did catch up to them he wouldn't do anything. Even Johnny wasn't stupid enough to fire his MAC-10 in public, or so Michael hoped.

"Actually I'm going to go with no," said Michael as he came to stop as a car pulled out of a side street in front of them, blocking their path. Johnny grinned at them from the passenger seat, his gun already pointed at them. They had no escape. They couldn't run forward or backward down the street. They'd be mowed down.

"Time for a shortcut," said Nate as he ran to the nearest fence. Leaping up, he grabbed the top and pulled himself up and over and into the back yard of the nearest house. Michael didn't question his brother, only followed after him. He heard Johnny shouting again. He couldn't help but smile until he heard the car doors being opened and slammed shut. Guess they were coming after them on foot this time.

Nate was already climbing over the next fence, going into the neighbouring garden. He was up and over before the first of Johnny's crew had made it over the first fence.

"Do you know where you're going?" Michael called to Nate.

"Kinda," Nate grunted in return as he pulled himself over the next fence. Michael could see his brother was starting to tire. Hell, he was starting to tire. They wouldn't be able to keep this up forever.

Gunshots were being fired again. Michael dropped into the next garden just as the fence exploded into splinters as the bullets shot through it. He couldn't help the involuntary cry as the wood pierced his back. Hundreds of splinters tearing through his shirt and embedding in his skin like needles. Staggering forward his knees gave out as the pain raced through his back like it was on fire. Crouching on the ground, he screwed up his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. But every breath sent more pain through his back.

Nate stopped running when he heard Michael shout. The gunfire had stopped. Had they shot Michael? Rushing back to his brother's side he couldn't see any gaping wounds. Yet Michael was knelt on all fours gasping for breath. Kneeling down, he got a closer look at his brother with his shredded shirt and the spots of blood.

"Shit," he muttered to himself as he realised what had happened.

Looking back to the fence, he saw it wobble with the weight of the guys following them. They had to get going. Pulling out his own hand-gun from the back of his jeans he fired a few quick shots at the fence. That should slow them down, and with any luck he might of actually hit someone or at least give them something to think about,

"Come on, the Charger is only a few blocks away." Nate hauled Michael up to his feet, ignoring his brother's sharp intake of breath. He dragged Michael forward and guided him into an open garage. Letting go of Michael he pulled the door down behind them, blocking Johnny's path. The distance between them and Johnny was getting smaller and now that Michael was injured that distance would only keep on decreasing. He needed to slow Johnny down. But using the rest of his bullets wasn't really an option.

Michael was already making his way towards the back door of the garage, only a bit slower than before. Putting his gun away, Nate pulled down the standing shelves behind him, making as many obstacles as possible for Johnny to cross.

The garage door was starting to slide open as Nate rushed out the back door. Slamming it shut he then grabbed a discarded box and threw it against the door. He doubted it would slow Johnny down for long, but they needed as much head start as they could get.

Michael was back to running, well, jogging was a more accurate description. Nate ignored this. If he dwelled on it, started to think how hurt his brother could be...

Brushing that thought aside before he could finish it, he was just thankful Michael was still moving. He ignored the amount of holes in the back of his brother's shirt and ignored the spots of blood that had grown in size in the short amount of time. He even ignored the fact that Michael was slowing down rather than keeping the pace, or better yet, speeding up.

They were back to heading in the direction of the main street. Nate could already hear the traffic, and if he wasn't mistaken he could hear sirens. He smiled. He never thought he'd be happy to see cops. He urged Michael to pick up his pace. They were nearly there. He could here Johnny and his crew shouting, their footsteps getting closer.

Michael gritted his teeth as the splinters in his back pulled at his skin. Every time he moved it was like a cheese-grater slicing into his skin. Taking that bit extra off him. His shirt felt like sand-paper as it moved across his back, pulling at the wood still embedded in his skin. If they just made it to the main road they'd be okay. He kept repeating that same phrase over and over again in his head_. If they just made it to the main road they'd be okay_. Anything to take his mind off the pain.

He had to keep going, for Nate. He would not, could not let his brother down again. He looked back over his shoulder to see how close Johnny and his crew were. Too close for comfort. Turning back he could actually see the red and blue flashing lights of cop cars. Ignoring the feeling off his own blood sliding down his back, ignoring the shearing pain in his back as the splinters tore at his skin.

Putting on that last bit off speed, he almost ploughed straight into to one of the police cars as it skidded to a halt in front of the alley entrance. He jumped and slid across the bonnet, stumbling slightly as he landed.

"Police! Freeze!"

Michael ignored the cop as he just about avoided another cop car skidding to a halt. The amount of shouting that came from the police officers was deafening. He crouched on the floor, but when no one came over to him he looked up to see four cops shoving Johnny and his crew to the ground, kicking their guns away.

Trying to hide the amount of pain he was in, he slowly followed after Nate who was already blending in with the growing crowd that were watching the bust. The cops hadn't noticed him. They had been too focused on the gang with sub-machine guns running into a crowded place. With slow controlled breaths he moved further into the crowd. This would not be a good time to scare the tourists and get unwanted attention.

A third car, an unmarked police car, pulled up to the scene. Michael turned to look who got out and was not surprised to see Detective Paxson. He was even less surprised when she started to look over the crowd first instead of her newly acquired law breakers.

He grinned at her when she spotted him, before disappearing into the crowd completely. No doubt he'd receive a visit from her in the morning. But right now he just wanted someplace safe where he could collapse.

-BN—


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Right, this is an apology to all my lovely readers. I had hoped to have finished this tale before I went on my summer holidays. As it happens that is not to be.

So this is a small apology as it will be another three weeks until I can update for you. (They don't have the internet on the beach!)

But I do have a small snippet of what is to come In Saving Nate to hopefully appease those fires that are starting to burn.

-BN—

_Coming soon on Burn Notice..._

"I had a girl once,"

"Your biggest mistake was trying to kill me,"

"You don't want to do this,"

"I find myself in a moral dilemma,"

"You tore up half of Miami with your little stunt,"

"I guess you can thank your big brother. I think he just took your place under the guillotine."

"I'm not like my brother. You know, I don't just abandon my friends."

"Oh, man, I oughtta smack you silly, boy."

"Kill him!"


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **So many apologies for this being posted later than I said it would. I know I promised three weeks but I got back from my holiday and I hit the ground running. I'm just about getting back to my normal pace of life now, which included posting this for you all. (The BBQ is ready if you wish to send flames for my tardiness.) Again apologies, I hope this chapter meets your high expectations. Enjoy!

-BN-

_24:00:03_

_24:00:02_

_24:00:01_

_24:00:00_

Michael winced as he pulled on his shirt. The wounds on his back stung as the cloth moved across them, pulling at the skin.

"Looks like somebody had a rough night," said Paxson from the garage doorway.

Michael looked Paxson up and down, he noticed she didn't look as neat as usual, wearing the same clothes as when he'd seen her last night.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one," he commented.

"I believe I have you to thank for that," she smiled as she walked further into the garage.

"Whatever makes you think that?"

"Don't play games Michael," warned Paxson, her tone of voice losing its playfulness. "Not with me."

"Then ask the right questions," Michael snapped.

_Damn it._ Ever since coming back to this city everybody had been on his case about what he had or hadn't done. All he tried to do was the right thing. Make the right choices. But every time it came back to bite him on the ass.

"Why was Johnny shooting at you?" Paxson asked in a voice barely more than a whisper as she got up close to him.

Michael leant forward so they were almost nose to nose, "Because I blew up his car," he said smiling at the woman who had caused him so much trouble. Before he left Miami she had made every job that much harder and six years later she was doing it all over again.

Paxson let out a small laugh, "Of course you did." She knew full well that it wasn't Michael that blew up the car.

She backed away from him and started pacing the empty space. Michael didn't miss the glances she kept throwing at the bench where the maps and files on each arms dealers were stored. She tried to hide it, but he noticed.

"Why are you here, Detective?" Michael sighed. He was tired and he hurt in more places than he cared to count. Nate had spent half the night picking wood splinters out of his back. Each one had been less than carefully removed by his brother, who Michael was quite sure enjoyed the experience of causing him more pain.

They hadn't spoken a word to each other since reaching the Charger, each thinking over the events of the night. Each thinking what Michael would have said if Johnny hadn't shot at them. Michael had spent his time thinking if he should restart the conversation. Should he tell his brother the reason he left? Would he hate him more?

"I asked you the other day why you were back," asked Paxson.

"I told you it was a family emergency," sighed Michael.

"You did. Thing is, I spoke to Fiona and what she said sounded a lot more like you were taking jobs again," Paxson smiled up at Michael.

She could hear him grinding his teeth so he didn't bite back a response. Her smile grew wider, he didn't know that Fiona had spoken to her. But then after everything that had happened between the two of them she wasn't that surprised.

But then maybe it wasn't that which the issue was. He knew that she was on to him. She'd seen the police radio codes on the desk. Whatever Michael was planning, it was going down tonight, and she was one step closer to taking him down. And he knew it.

"Get out," growled Michael as he clenched his fists down by his sides. His temper brewing again, getting all that closer to bubbling over the surface.

Paxson raised her eyebrows at Michael's reaction, her smile gone. She'd only ever seen Michael like this once, seen him this close to the edge. Six years ago just before he left. Just before he and his brother almost died.

"Careful Michael," warned Paxson as she turned to leave, "Remember how badly last time turned out?"

-BN—

_Michael looked across the warehouse floor his client lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes wide open staring up to the sky, empty._

_He'd failed. He was meant to protect his client from this happening and all he did was deliver the guy into the lion's den._

_He'd failed his brother. He'd left Nate alone and the bastards had come after him. Michael didn't know if his brother was even alive or not. He hadn't stuck around to find out._

_He'd felt the garage explode behind him, shrapnel ploughing into his back, knocking him forward, pushing him to the ground. His head smacking the concrete of the driveway._

_Pain shot through his head but he ignored it, as he pushed himself back up to his feet, blood streaming from a cut at his temple. Spinning around he was already running towards the now nonexistent garage. Stumbling over the rubble he searched for Nate. Pieces of brick and wood slicing into his hands as he threw them aside in his desperate search._

_After what seemed to Michael hours he finally saw Nate. Lying on his back, eyes closed, blood covering his chest, pooling around him._

_Michael collapsed to his knees, his hands shaking as he reached for his brother. He tried for a pulse, a breath, anything. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't take that final reach. He didn't want to face the answer._

_The sound of a car pulling away made him look up, smoke curled up from the rear tires of a BMW as it sped past the front of the house. He knew that car, it belonged to the men who were after his client._

_Rage shattered Michael's shock and grief. He was up and running before he could think anything through. Instinct taking over._

_This was how he now found himself, pinned down behind packing crates having watched another man die. He was outmanned and outgunned and nobody even knew he was here. _

_He'd become more reckless since having his name cleared, since being told he could never go back. He'd taken more and more risks, put more and more lives in danger. Not caring who was caught in the cross-fire. And now he was going to pay for it all._

"_Bad move, Weston," growled a male voice behind him. _

_Before Michal could answer a rope was around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Struggling against his attacker he tried to pry away the rope, but it didn't give. Clawing against the hands that sucked away his life, he tried pushing with his legs to get more leverage. Nothing helped._

_He tried to take another breath but he couldn't. His lungs burned with the need for more oxygen, but nothing came. His vision greyed, the spots becoming larger until he could barely see anything. His limbs were so heavy; he couldn't hold his arms up anymore._

_Then there was nothing at all._

_-BN—_


	14. Chapter 14

_16:00:03_

_16:00:02_

_16:00:01_

_16:00:00_

Michael sat at the bench in the garage, soldering iron in one hand, the metal wiring in the other. Four magnets were positioned equal distance apart in a metal ring. Two north poles in the north and east points. Two south poles in the south and west points.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is?" asked Sam from behind him.

"That would depend on if you think this is a Satan Ring," said Michael as he put the soldering iron down and reached for another aluminium ring. He placed it onto of the four magnets so that they along with the wires were enclosed in metal.

"Mikey, what are you doing making a Satan Ring?"

"You know why,"

"Yeah, to crack an electronic lock. The magnets will trick the mechanism into opening," Sam sighed. "I know why you would use one I just don't know why you need one today?"

"Hyun Yi."

"Mike, no."

"Sam, we don't have a choice," said Michael

"We have a goddamn list of other hits we could make. We don't have to go anywhere near that psycho!" shouted Sam.

"Yeah, we could Sam," said Michael standing up and facing Sam. "But we only have twelve hours. We don't have time to hit a dozen places when we can get away with hitting one."

"It's the getting away part that bothers me. No one's ever done it before," Sam threw his arms up in the air, trying to get his point across.

"There's a first time for everything," Michael shrugged as he picked up the Satan Ring.

"Damn it, Mike. This..."

"What?" interrupted Michael, his voice raising, "I'm all open to suggestions but I ain't hearing any. I've got a plan and it'll work. But you have to trust me on this."

Michael stared at Sam, waiting for a response. Out of all the people to not trust him, Sam was at the bottom of that list. They'd gone longer than six years in the past without seeing each other, but it never changed anything. Except now, something just wasn't the same anymore.

"Mike, I know why you left. And I understand, I really do. But being reckless like this is not going to change anything," said Sam barely above a whisper.

"I came here to save Nate, so that's what I'm gonna do. If that means I have to do the near impossible to achieve that then so be it," Michael stared at Sam waiting for his answer. Silence dragging out between them. Worry began to niggle at the back of Michael's mind; Sam had never backed out on him before.

"I'd like to think the impossible would be more achievable if you had my back," Michael was as close to begging as he'd ever come. If Sam backed out on him now, he didn't know what he'd do. The whole plan revolved around there being four of them.

Sam let out a long breath. He didn't like this, he didn't like this one bit. Stealing some guns from some low-life punks who thought they were all that was one thing. But Hyun Yi was the big time. There were no second chances. They didn't even have time to find an in, they just had go all guns blazes. Literally, if Fiona had anything to do with it.

But would he let Michael down now?

"I got your six, Mike. But you better have a damn good plan."

"I do," smirked Michael.

-BN—

"Right, all vehicles are in the pickup spots," said Nate as he bounced into the garage.

"Good," said Mike as he picked up the oxygen cylinder and checked the nozzle.

Everything was coming together. They only had a few hours left until the job really got started.

They had decided on five hits. By spreading out the number of crates they stole from each dealer, they would decrease the time they were there and decrease the load they were carrying.

They would hit two small time dealers first which they shouldn't have any problems getting in and out. Then the dealer Seymour had handed them, which, again they should not have to much of a problem with. Followed by Kuznetsov's place so they could get the heavy weapons. Then finally Hyun Yi's. If everything went to plan all fifty crates of weapons would be on the boat way before 08:00.

"Where do you want me?" asked Bly.

"Six feet under," muttered Nate scowling at the man. It was no secret that he didn't like him.

"At the docks. I want someone I know there, someone I can trust," Michael stared at Bly, weighing him up. This was the moment of truth. The moment Bly proved he really was one of them.

"Alright then," said Bly as he backed out of the garage. "Watch your back out there."

Michael didn't answer, only nodded. Sometimes words weren't needed, and sometimes they weren't any words that could convey what needed saying.

"Where's Fi?" asked Sam breaking the silence.

"She's picking up some last minute ordinance."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Then bring some earmuffs 'cause she's going to firing it in our direction," smirked Michael.

"What?"

"What is rule number one of breaking and entering?"

"Misdirection and speed," laughed Nate, remembering all the times Michael had asked him that very question when they were kids.

"Right, well, Fi will be providing the misdirection, Nate will get us the speed for our exit and we, my friend, will be getting the clear run into Hyun Yi's lockup and back again."

"You're sure of this?" asked Sam, checking for the last time. Michael had gone from under confident to overconfident in the same day.

"I am."

-BN—

Michael was loading the last piece of the diving equipment into the back of the Charger when Madeline came up to him. She'd been watching them all day, never saying anything. It was out of character for her.

"You want something, Mom?"

Madeline scoffed as she dropped the butt of her cigarette on the ground. Her gaze piercing into Michael, he felt like he was eight years old again and under scrutiny for doing something wrong. And just like all those years ago he couldn't work out what he had done.

"There is a lot of things I want Michael, I just never seem to get it," a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'll bring Nate home, Ma," said Michael finally realising what his mother was getting at.

Madeline looked across the driveway, Fiona was standing by the front of the Charger checking the mag. of her gun. Sam was at the rear of the van they had acquired loading the last of their equipment on board. Then there was Nate. He was practically bouncing on his feet, his eagerness showing through.

The scene was too familiar to one six years ago. Michael had assured her then that he would bring everybody home safe. They'd all come home that day, but they hadn't been safe. Her two boys had been far from safe. She did not want a repeat performance.

"Be careful, Michael," she whispered. She turned away and walked back into the house without looking backwards.

Michael watched her go. Two people had told him that today. Neither had been with confidence. No one ever used to lack confidence in him before.

"What was that all about?" asked Fiona coming to stand next to Michael, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," shrugged Michael as he closed the trunk of the car.

They had twelve hours until the deadline. It was time to go. Confidence or no confidence, everything was in play. There was no backing out now.

-BN—


	15. Chapter 15

_12:00:03_

_12:00:02_

_12:00:01_

_12:00:00_

Fiona drove the van into the storage facility; the rent-a-cop that should have been in the booth at the front was nowhere to be found. Instantly she was more alert, looking towards all the shadows, checking to see if anyone else was hanging around. It would be just their luck if somebody else was planning a break in the same night they were.

Driving down to the fifth row she reversed in, blocking the view of the camera that was pointed on locker 506. Harry Lattimer's locker. Jumping out of the passenger door she went and opened the back doors to let Sam, Nate and Michael out.

"Guard give you any trouble?" asked Michael.

"He wasn't there," shrugged Fiona. She watched as Michael's lips tightened. It was the only noticeable thing that told her that he might be worried. The rest of him still looked completely relaxed. But she knew he wasn't. They were less than two hours into the job and something wasn't going to plan.

"Nate," Michael called turning away from her. "Keep watch."

"On it, bro."

Fiona watched the two brother's move past each other. No arguments, no debates they just did it. If the circumstances had been less tense then she might have smiled.

The sound of metal snapping brought Fiona's attention back to the job at hand. Taking her eyes off Nate, who was standing at the end of the row she turned to see Michael with a pair of heavy duty bolt cutters. The padlock on the door now in pieces on the floor.

Fiona turned her flashlight on only when Sam had opened the door. She had the thought that anybody who had this little security guarding their property deserved to get robbed. Not that she said anything out loud, they did not need to jinx this.

Pulling out the list from her jeans back pocket she started to rattle off what they needed while Michael and Sam started checking the crates. They were taking ten crates from each target. It would reduce the time they were at each place and the weight they were carrying.

It was a good plan. Not that she told Michael that. After spending the last two days with him she couldn't decide if she was still mad at him or just happy he was back. She kept thinking it over. Would he stay this time? Would he leave again? Should she care?

-BN—

"Time to go," said Nate running back to the van.

Michael looked up at his brother's arrival. He'd just finished loading the third crate onto the van.

"Guard is on his way," Nate warned.

"Help Fi with that crate." Michael pointed to one on the floor by the far wall. Sam was already at their final crate that needed to be loaded. They had a few minutes left to get both crates on to the van and close the locker door and drive away. And all without the guard realising what had gone on.

Fi was already running to the driver's seat when Michael shut the locker door. Putting on a new padlock which was near identical to the original lock, he was about to jump in the back of the van where Sam and Nate were securing the crates, when the security guard came around the corner.

"Hey," shouted the guard, his hand already on his weapon at his hip.

Michael cursed under his breath. This was their first hit of the night and it was already going against the plan. It did not bode well.

Michael gave a warning to Sam and Nate to stay where they were before he turned to face the security guard, a fixed grin on his face and his hands up showing that he wasn't armed.

"What are you doing here?" asked the guard.

"It's alright, Lattimer sent us. Just checking his stuff."

"No. That's what I'm for," disagreed the guard, his grip on his weapon tightening.

Michael lost his grin, frowning slightly. He dropped his hands and stepped forward. "So where were you?" he growled.

The guard stayed silent, his eyes darting back and forth between Michael and Fiona who was still in the driver's seat.

"Where were you?" shouted Michael taking two steps closer to the guard.

The guard pulled out his weapon but only got it half way up and aimed before Michael was on him.

Michael grabbed the guard's wrist, bending it forward so he lost his grip on the gun. Michael twisted so he manoeuvred the man's arm behind his back so his joints were locked. One more twist and he could dislocate the man's shoulder Two more twists and he could dislocate the man's elbow.

"Michael," said Fiona in a warning tone. She was out of the van and standing in front of him and the guard. She could see that look was in Michael's eyes again, the one where he couldn't see the line anymore.

She watched him take a deep breath, the guard let out a whine as Michael's grip tightened.

"Get back to your post," Michael growled in the guard's ear. "And I won't tell Lattimer that you screwed up." Michael let go of the guard, pushing him forward so he fell to the ground.

Michael didn't say anything to Fiona as he walked past her to the back of the van. He gave Sam and Nate a quick nod before closing the door. Fiona was back in the driver's seat when he got in the passenger side. He gave one last glare to the guard as they drove off, only letting out the breath he had seemingly been holding when they were back on the road and heading towards the docks.

-BN-

"What is wrong with you?" snapped Fiona after several minutes of driving.

Michael looked over to her, not answering. What could he say?

"Damn it, Michael. Do not go all weird on me in the middle of a job," she huffed.

"Weird?" he asked looking over to her.

"Yes, weird," Fiona glanced at him before looking back to the road. "Ever since you got back you've been different."

"Things change," Michael practically whispered.

"Not that much," Fiona said disbelievingly. "What is it? Not getting enough sex?" she snapped, annoyed that he wouldn't give her a straight answer.

The corner of Michael's lips turned up slightly in amusement. "I had a girl once," he looked back out the window. "She was great." His last few words were barely more than a whisper.

Fiona's breath hitched as he said those words, her heart pounding in her chest. She thought it was over. She'd missed her chance. He'd left, he'd not looked back. But he was back now, he was back.

"Michael..." she choked out.

"We're here," interrupted Michael.

Fiona stopped the van, not bothering to pull over to the side of the road. They wouldn't be stopped long.

Michael was out the door and walking to their next car before she even had the handbrake on. She could feel her eyes prickling with impending tears. _Damn it._ She would not cry. Michael had had too many of her tears over the years.

Taking a deep breath, she got out the van. They had a job to do.

-BN—


End file.
